If this is who was sent to pick me up, he’s not too keen about it …

Jack caught up to him at the doors and said, “John?”

“Yeah,” he replied somewhat suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Jack Taggart from Canada.”

“Oh!” replied Adams in surprise. “You, uh, don’t look like a cop. At least, not what I was expecting.”

Jack knew from Adams’s quick trip through the airport that he wasn’t happy about picking him up. It would take a little diplomacy to get him on board … which was what was needed if they were to work together.

He sized Adams up quickly. His eyes are red and it looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His shirt is slightly stained with grease … probably drippings from a hamburger. Good, the guy was probably working surveillance and downing food when he had the chance. Not the type who spends his days in the office sucking up to the bosses. Being sent to pick me up probably pissed him off … he’d rather get back to whatever he was working on.

“You breezed through the airport pretty quick,” said Jack. “Looking for a guy in a red tunic, I take it?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Don’t have to wear it when I travel.”

“I see,” replied Adams seriously.

“Do you know where the general cargo area is at the airport? I have to go there.”

“I’m not sure,” replied Adams, looking around.

“Yeah, they had to fly my horse in on a FedEx plane.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I was just messin’ with your brain cell. I’m ready to go.”

Adams looked taken back before muttering, “Okay. Good.”

As they stepped out into the sunlight and walked toward a parking lot, Adams glanced at Jack and asked, “Did you already talk to Weber?”

“No. Who’s he?”

“My boss.”

“I tend to avoid bosses. Where I come from they can be counterproductive.”

They took a few more steps and Adams glanced at Jack a couple of times before admitting, “They’re the same here, but I was told to bring you in and meet with them. First, though, I’ll take you to your hotel so you can check in.”

“Fine, but after the protocol with your boss, I would like to get to work. I want to see a motel called the Cactus Sunset. A young woman from Canada was kidnapped out of it. Then, if we have time, I’ve got some rather cryptic directions on a hand-drawn map I’d like you to look at. I think it leads to a house trailer out in the desert someplace.”

“What’s there?”

“Nothing, I hope. Have you read our reports?”

“I skimmed through them the other day. Have been a little busy. I’ll take a closer look at ’em when I introduce you to Weber and the others.”

“I see,” said Jack, feeling a little frustrated more interest had not been shown. “I’ll fill you in some as you drive.”

“I think you’ll like the hotel I picked. They give the guests free drinks every day from four to six.”

“Sounds good.” Jack squinted up at the sun as they walked out of a shaded area. The heat felt like he was standing on the tarmac behind a jet engine and sweat immediately ran down the side of his head. He glanced at Adams and said, “Man, it’s not even eleven o’clock in the morning and I can feel the heat burning through the soles of my shoes. Is it always this hot?”

“This is winter. You should try being here during our hot and dry season.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Yeah,” replied Adams, giving Jack a sideways glance. “I was just messin’ with your brain cell.”

Jack chuckled. “These free drinks at four … seems like a long time to wait.”

Adams smiled. “The bosses mentioned they want to come for lunch with you. I think I could find us a place where there’s cold beer.”

“Perfect.”

“Just out of curiosity, how did you spot me in the airport?” asked Adams.

“You got a cop’s bearing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You exude self-confidence. You’ve also got a cop’s eyes.”

“Are you still just messin’ —”

“No.”

Adams frowned. He had always prided himself at blending in. Who is this guy?

As they approached the Camaro, Jack commented, “Nice wheels. Yours?”

“Company car. Used to belong to a dope dealer.”

“It doesn’t look like a police vehicle.”

“It’s the best one we have.”

“Where I come from, the bosses scoop the best ones and leave the clunkers for the rest of us.”

“Same here. I was lucky to find the keys on the board. You’ll notice it has tinted windows all around so nobody can see my cops’ eyes,” replied Adams as he grinned at Jack.

Jack gave a lop-sided smile in response. He had a feeling he and Adams were going to get along fine.

An hour later, after checking into the hotel, Jack entered the office with Adams. He had barely taken two steps when Weber spotted him and came out to shake his hand. He was then invited back to Weber’s office where he received warm handshakes from Davidson, as well as the two bosses who represented the DEA and ATF investigators.

Adams did not take part in the introductions and stood in the main office, watching quietly before going to his own desk.

Jack looked at the men in the main office. Adams was much younger and more physically fit than the rest. Obviously the junior man … the gofer assigned to pick me up.

Jack also sensed Adams was treated with a certain degree of indifference by the others. Perhaps like a young bull full of vitality and eager to go … while the old bulls look upon him with a certain amount of contempt?

Jack may have formed a different opinion had he known the real reason Adams was being ostracized.

Davidson told Jack that neither picture of the two killers taken from Porter’s apartment security camera could be identified as anyone they knew, but they would keep their descriptions in mind for future reference.

All four bosses insisted on joining Jack for lunch so they walked into the main part of the office and Adams suggested a Mexican restaurant he knew. The bosses agreed to the choice and said they would follow in their own car.

As Jack and Adams walked out to their car, Adams said, “You mentioned you wanted to check out the Cactus Sunset and then some map you have after lunch.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see the map mentioned in your reports.”

“It, uh, is a little delicate how I obtained it. The fewer people who know, the better.”

“I see,” replied Adams. Delicate? What kind of wussy word is that? A CI probably gave it to him … he should have said so.

As they drove to the restaurant, Adams said, “I also checked out the Armadillo Motel while you were meeting with them,” he said, gesturing with his thumb back to the four bosses in the car behind them. “We don’t have anything on it, but that doesn’t mean squat. The cartels have thousands of people in their pocket, so I don’t recommend anyone approaching the management at the Armadillo on Wednesday when you check in.”

“I agree with you there. It was Tio who told me to go there. I’m sure he has a reason.”

“What kind of piece are you carrying?”

“I’m not armed. It’s against policy for me to carry a gun in a foreign country.”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” replied Adams, incredulously. “I pack at least two all the time. One in an ankle holster and —”

“Of course you do, you’re an American.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jack hid his smile at the amount of weaponry the U.S. was famous for and shrugged in response.

“Well, for your information, you are in America,” said Adams gruffly. “As soon as we stop for lunch I’ll pop the trunk. Got lots for you to choose from. Anything from revolvers to pistols to fully autos.”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t usually carry one in Canada, either, if I am undercover. More often than not, I’m searched. If I had a gun the bad guys are liable to take it and use it on me.”